How to Lie Convincingly
by jaderook
Summary: Loki always lied. He lied to everyone. He was known for it. Post-TTDW


**Title:** How to Lie Convincingly

**Summary:** Loki always lied. He lied to everyone. He was known for it. Post-TTDW

**Disclaimer: **Anything you recognize belongs to Marvel, mythology, history, and a wikiHow article on lying. Anything you don't recognize likely comes from my warped imagination. No profit is being earned from this little writing endeavor of mine. There is implied slash and gender-bending elements to this story, though nothing graphic- so you've been forewarned.

* * *

…_Know when not to lie._

"Um- perhaps you could be the one to? Instead of me- I mean," Loki's companion said nervously. "You've said you've done it before- after all."

"I distinctly recall that you were enthusiastic at the prospect just a short while ago," Loki said through clenched teeth.

"Yes- but what if someone were to discover that I- you know," the other man said worriedly.

"Who would tell them? _Me?_ What we do isn't anyone else's business, and I have no interest in making it such," Loki reasoned. "This is meant to be about pleasure."

"Well- it _is_- but- you _know_ what they'd say."

Yes, Loki knew. He just didn't care.

"I assure you, if anyone talks, I'll take care of it," Loki responded curtly. "I've done so before. Besides, I'm not one to let the opinions of others interfere with what I want to do. Neither should you, in this case."

Not that it would even affect him this time, as everyone thought him dead, but Loki _had_ taken care of such situations before. When it came to outright insults and accusations, Loki dealt with them. There was no one still alive who had dared insult him in that fashion.

However, this prospective tryst was beginning to become more trouble than it was worth.

The other man looked slightly alarmed at Loki's subtle implication. Loki couldn't have cared less.

"But—"

"Look," Loki said, cutting him off. "You're obviously not willing, so perhaps you should just leave."

Not to mention that Loki was getting beyond irritated with this man. Whatever appeal he had was quickly dissipating.

"It's not that," the other man assured. "I just don't think I'm comfortable being the one who—"

"May be called _argr_," Loki finished for him. "You don't want to be accused of being unmanly, but have no trouble with me being accused of it."

"No! That's not it! I—"

One didn't need to be named Lie-Smith to recognize the obvious lie there.

"Get out. We're done here."

"But—"

"Get. Out!"

The other man glared at Loki but quickly left, slamming the door behind him.

Loki sat on the end of the bed and placed his head in his hands. He should have realized this little assignation would turn out this way. He was in Asgard, after all, and Asgard was hardly known for its progressive views regarding men that had lain with other men. His companion for the evening had seemed more than willing before, eager for his kisses, eager for Loki to take the dominant role, and then _nothing_. Loki should have honestly expected it. It was a good thing Loki's proclivities were quite varied or he would have been condemned to a lifetime of celibacy centuries ago.

Loki sighed.

"Right, you fool. There's nothing for it," he muttered to himself.

Loki always lied. He lied to everyone. He was known for it.

Had anyone bothered asking Loki if being labeled a liar upset him, and they never had, he wasn't sure if he would have even had an answer to give to them. _Yes, no, possibly, I don't know._ His own feelings on the matter were conflicted. Whether he was or wasn't a liar had simply become immaterial over time. It became a foregone conclusion that if Loki's mouth was running then lies were coming out of it. Frustratingly, maddeningly, unfairly accused as he may have been at one time, it became something of a self-fulfilling prophecy. If Loki was to always be a liar, then he had decided to become the best liar in all the nine realms.

Loki had certain rules for himself. He usually never even had to think about them anymore, they had become so ingrained, but he had often found comfort in repeating them like a litany when he was a youth.

What did it say that he had taken to consciously thinking of them of late? 'Are you mad?' Thor had asked him recently. 'Possibly,' he had answered. Though it really didn't bear contemplating either way.

_Rule One: Make peace with the decision to lie._

Loki had long ago absolved himself of any moral or ethical concerns when it came to lying, as he had justified it with the caveat that it was assumed he was doing so anyway, even when he wasn't. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

_Rule Two: Consider the chances of being caught._

Standing up, he walked to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room and looked at himself. The form he had chosen for himself that evening wasn't all that different from his usual Asgardian appearance- just small changes here and there. He let it drop and looked at his usual pale visage with green eyes and dark hair. Aesir. Barely. Then he shape-shifted into a woman. Loki looked at himself critically, or did she look at herself critically? Pronouns weren't all that important to Loki at the moment. It was a bold choice considering he just feminized his usual form, but he really didn't care tonight. They weren't looking for a dead man anyway.

_Rule Three: Get your version of events straight._

Who was he meant to be tonight? He was just some woman, with a personality similar to his own, out for a good time in a tavern. He was there to get away from his worries and his past. It was simple, it was vague, and it was good enough.

_Rule Four: Envision the lie._

He wasn't Loki right now. He was a woman. Loki was dead. Loki's birthright had been to die, after all. He wasn't even Odin tonight. He was on a break from playing at being Odin All-Father. He was on a break from thinking about Thanos. He needed this. He _was_ this new woman.

_Rule Five: Practice lying in front of the mirror._

Looking deeply at his, no, at her reflection, Loki gave a sultry smile. She went through a whole myriad of 'sincere' facial expressions and body language. It would do, she decided.

_Rule Six: Think about the details._

Her name wasn't Loki tonight. It was Trixie. When the convergence happened she was so confused. She lost her entire family, as well as many friends during those events. Now she was just trying to build her life again, but none of that was important tonight, because _tonight_ was about having a good time. It was still vague, but nothing anyone would look too much into, as it was certainly not an uncommon tale in Asgard these days.

She was mostly ready and that was good enough.

She left the room and went down into the main part of the tavern. Her former companion would be long gone by now. She walked toward the bar and sat down.

Not a minute later, a hand came down on her shoulder and she stiffened.

"Pardon me, but you seem familiar," a man's voice said.

_Damn._ It was Fandral. Her heart leapt into her throat. Was it her, or was there suspicion in his voice?

_Rule Seven: Do the opposite of what liars do._

She turned and looked him straight in the eyes and consciously relaxed.

"Oh, I get that a lot," she said with a slight smile. "I just must have one of those faces."

Nothing overdone, because overdoing the facial expressions wouldn't do. She reminded herself to be natural and not make any nervous hand gestures. She couldn't afford any tells. She had successfully done this sort of thing for centuries. There was nothing to worry about.

If Fandral had ever been suspicious, he wasn't now. He smiled back. He picked up her hand and kissed it.

"Fandral the Dashing, at your service, my lady," the warrior said charmingly. "Would it be too forward of me to buy you a drink?"

"Trixie," she responded. "And, no, it wouldn't be too forward. I could use some company right now."

_Rule Eight: Bring up the lie first before you're questioned about the matter._

Did it matter that it was _Fandral _sitting in front of her right now? He would immediately recoil in revulsion if he even thought it was Loki with whom he was flirting, but she _wasn't_ Loki tonight. She was someone else entirely. Loki and Fandral didn't necessarily have the best opinions of each other, but Fandral and Trixie? That remained to be seen.

"I'm just here to forget things tonight, Fandral," she confided to the warrior. "My family are all—" she hesitated, "gone now."

She looked down with slight moisture in her eyes before looking back up into Fandral's concerned gaze.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to unburden myself on you. This is meant to be a fun evening," she said contritely.

"Think nothing of it, Lady Trixie," Fandral said, while placing a warm hand over one of her cold hands. "Recent events have been difficult for everyone in Asgard. I've lost friends too."

She found herself nodding along.

"You must think me so selfish for going on about my own worries! Who did you lose, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Ah, well, Prince Thor has been a dear friend of mine for ages," Fandral began.

Of _course_, everything was always about Thor, wasn't it? Ooh, and did that ever burn! But she wasn't Loki, so she wouldn't care what he said about Thor. Prince Thor was nothing but a fairytale to someone like Lady Trixie. She gave him what she thought was an exaggerated look of rapt attention.

"However, he recently left for Midgard with barely a word. His ladylove resides there, so I suppose I shall have to be understanding, especially considering he has lost his mother and his brother so recently. In fact, when I first saw you, you reminded me of his brother, Prince Loki."

"Prince Loki?" she laughed. "Should I be flattered or offended at the comparison?"

"Definitely flattered, Lady Trixie. Whatever else he may have done, Prince Loki died with honor," Fandral said.

He even almost sounded as if he believed it. She knew better. However, that was the best endorsement of Loki's character that one could ever expect from someone like Fandral. Loki could accept a grudging admiration. Perhaps Trixie would like Fandral after all.

"I get the impression you didn't care for him all that much though," she said with more than a little pique.

The sharp glance of suspicion he gave her was not in her favor. Her tone and expression had been entirely _too_ reminiscent of Loki. She couldn't afford any more slips. Fandral's face was momentarily twisted with confused distaste, as if it was dawning on him that perhaps she _was_ Loki. She wasn't. Not tonight.

_Rule Nine: Make a truthful admission._

If she didn't dissuade his suspicions now, then she would be found out. She gave a fake sigh of regret. Fandral would never know the difference.

"I have a confession to make, Fandral. I am acquainted with Prince Loki."

Fandral's shock and confusion showed on his face, but she continued on.

"It would have been impossible for neither of us to realize our similarities once we came into contact."

She could see when Fandral accepted this point. It would have only made sense that Loki and his female look alike would have noticed their similarities had they ever met.

"Then I'm sure you have reason to mourn him then," Fandral said with a surprising amount of diplomacy.

He had the look of a man who saw through to her soul, and she wasn't sure she liked the idea of her mask slipping even slightly. She gave a bitter laugh.

"It is alright, Fandral. I'm fairly certain Loki would not want to be mourned overly much, and from me least of all," she admitted.

She meant every word.

"You knew him well, then?" he asked cautiously.

"As well as anyone could, I'd imagine," she confided.

Fandral the Dashing looked torn over whether he should be disgusted at her closeness to Loki or whether he should comfort her over the matter.

"Even Prince Loki had his good points," Fandral said softly. "I'm sure you're right that he wouldn't want you to be sad on his account."

The comfort route it was then. She felt oddly compelled to either hit Fandral or kiss him. Or, perhaps she should just kill him. Then, perhaps, she wouldn't feel so maudlin.

"You're right. As I said, I'm not here for that."

She looked into Fandral's eyes coquettishly.

"Yes, you did mention you were here to have a fun evening."

"I did, at that," she laughed.

"And just what sort of fun did you have in mind, my lady?" Fandral asked slyly.

_Rule Ten: Play dumb._

"Oh! Well, I—" She let herself blush becomingly. "I really hadn't thought about it," she evaded awkwardly and very unconvincingly.

She let her gaze shyly shift away from his. Fandral only moved closer.

"Well, perhaps I might have an idea or two," he responded rakishly.

_Trixie_ gave Fandral a shy smile. He gave her a disarming smile in return.

She let him order her another drink, and when he gently pulled her hand for her to follow him upstairs to a room, she let him. When he leaned in to kiss her, and when he encouraged her to lay on the bed, she let him do that as well. It was nice to forget things for a while, she decided, even if it _was_ with Fandral.

Their encounter had even been going smoothly, until she made the mistake of using her magic to help expedite the process of removing their clothing. Her magic was distinctive. It always had been. Anyone who had ever spent any time with Loki would have seen the distinctive flair of it and remembered. Fandral drew back from her immediately.

"What is this?" he asked indignantly.

"Magic," she responded brusquely. "Is it a problem?"

Fandral gave her a look of utmost scrutiny. He was now shirtless and his hair was mussed, which gave him a look of dishabille, which she had to admit was a good look for him. She pulled him back in for another kiss, but he denied her.

"How did you know Loki again?" he demanded.

_Rule Eleven: Avoid elaborate stories that involve the need for collaboration._

"I already told you. But we met a long time ago, if you must know," she said coolly. "It does beg the question though of what any of _that_ has to do with any of _this_."

She motioned between herself and Fandral with a sharp gesture borne of frustration at his antics, and rolled her eyes.

Fandral gave her a particularly critical look. His upper lip twisted almost imperceptibly into a look of disgust.

_Rule Twelve: Appear indifferent._

"Ah. I see. You somehow seem to think that _I _am Loki," she said calmly. "There _were_ witnesses to his death on Svartalfheim, if you recall," she added logically.

Even though her ire was raised, she kept her own animosity for this situation- and for Fandral- at bay. Instead she made certain that her face was entirely lacking in expression. It would not do to show any sort of emotion. She would not give Fandral the satisfaction. She sat up on the bed and moved away from him.

Fandral almost convinced her that he was contrite, as he gave a slight wince.

"My apologies, Lady Trixie, but you do remind me _too_ much of our recently departed Prince."

_Rule Thirteen: Follow through._

"Need I remind you that _you_ approached me? I admit, Fandral, that this has all been a little bit disappointing. I _told_ you why I was here, and what has happened to me, and I even admitted that I knew Loki. Yet now you act as if I'm attempting to con you!"

Fandral had the grace to look ashamed, and his cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

"It is nothing against you, my lady, but—"

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

_Rule Fourteen: Know when not to lie._

"But I remind you too much of Loki," she finished for him. "And you loathed him."

"No- of course I didn't!" Fandral protested weakly. "He had been our companion for many years!"

She gave Fandral a skeptical look and he sighed again.

"I didn't loathe him. That is too strong of a word."

"You just disliked him greatly."

"Well- all right. Yes. I will admit to that. We had our differences."

"And I remind you of him," she deadpanned.

"Well- yes- but- I didn't mean it like that! You're twisting my words, Lady Trixie!" the warrior said in obvious frustration.

This prospective tryst had also turned out to be more trouble than it was worth. She refused to subject herself to this farce any longer.

"Get out. We're done."

"But, my lady! Surely—"

"Get. Out!"

Fandral looked delightfully miserable as he shut the door behind him. At least he didn't slam it.

Loki fell back onto the bed, with her legs dangling over the side, and covered her eyes with the palms of her hands. She should have known things would turn out this way. This was Asgard, after all, and Asgard wasn't exactly a place that had ever been fond of Loki, or anyone that reminded them of Loki, apparently. She knew it had been too bold of a choice to shape-shift into a form that was too reminiscent of her usual self.

Loki stood up with a sigh and tugged on her hair in frustration before stepping over to stand in front of the mirror on the other side of the room.

Right. The rules. Loki had a certain litany of rules.

_Rule One: Make peace with the decision to lie._

Loki looked in the mirror, observing the form she had chosen for herself, which was the feminized version of her usual Asgardian form. She let it drop and looked at her usual pale visage with green eyes and dark hair. Aesir. Barely. Loki looked at herself critically, or did he look at himself critically? What did it even matter? Pronouns weren't all that important to Loki at the moment.

"You're you no matter what you look like, Loki," he whispered to himself.

Loki closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

Peace.

_Loki always lied. _

Loki's _seiðr, _green and glowing, came quickly to his fingers. He always thought it was beautiful, this magic of his, and he had long proved himself to be a formidable sorcerer. He refused to feel shame over it these days. Nothing Frigga taught him was anything he would ever be ashamed of, even though he had only had her tricks and not her trust. He mustn't forget that. He _never_ had her trust. He held his palm out toward the mirror.

He felt peaceful.

_He lied to everyone. _

On a whim, Loki shifted to his Jötunn form. Opening his eyes to look in the mirror, he winced at the jarring sight and then glared at the cerulean skinned and red-eyed image before him with hatred.

_He was known for it._

"A monster—" he growled. "And nobody can love a monster."

He was at peace. Of _course _he was at peace. Why wouldn't he be?

His visage shattered.

However, that didn't matter because Loki had certain rules; it was a litany of sorts.

'Are you mad?' Thor had asked him recently.

Loki closed his eyes.

'Possibly,' he had answered.

Loki took a deep breath.

_Possibly_, but it didn't bear contemplating either way.

_Rule one…_

* * *

**Author's Note: **Like most of my one-shots, this story was randomly conceived while in the process of planning/plotting/writing a longer story; in this case, one concerning Loki. This one-shot was a minor attempt at trying to get into Loki's head. So, in effect it is part Lie-Smith, part 'Loki: Agent of Asgard', and part Bruce Banner's comment in 'The Avengers' that Loki's, "…brain is a bag full of cats. You can smell the crazy on him." I do hope that you enjoyed my attempt and ask that you do me the honor of reading and reviewing, as it is something I would very much appreciate. Thank you for reading!


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